


Affirmations

by Dreamwvr73, Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Magical Tattoos, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamwvr73/pseuds/Dreamwvr73, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: When Quentin becomes overwhelmed about his sexuality, Margo takes him on a magic-fueled pub crawl, with unexpected results.





	Affirmations

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Welter’s Challenge, theme 2, “Unity.” We don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. Comments and kudos are magic. Enjoy!

**Affirmations**

By Lexalicious70 and HiQueenBambiWaugh

Quentin knew he was in for a long night when even his Fillory books failed to distract him from his rising anxiety. The Physical Kids cottage was quiet, as most of the second-year students were busy putting his classmates through the rigors of the Trials. He, Penny and Alice had just finished their first leg of the challenge, but as Quentin paced around the empty common room, a copy of _The World in the Walls_ left behind in a nearby chair behind him, his victory did little to calm him.

"You don't look smug or happy for someone who survived the first night of the trials." Margo stood at the bar, a short gold dress wrapped around her petite frame. Her long hair was in a bun at the top of her head, held in place by gold pins

"Jesus!" Quentin turned, putting a hand over his heart. "Where did you come from?"

"When a mommy and daddy love each other, they both lay down..."

 Quentin rolled his eyes and stalked over to the chair to pick up his book. He flopped down, ignoring the slight wheeze of the couch cushion, and opened to a random page.

"Give me a break, will you?"

Margo shook Eliot's cocktail shaker, cracked it open, and poured two neon green cocktails. She set the shaker down then rounded the bar and presented him with the drink.

Quentin lowered the book a little to glance up at her. "What's that?"

"It's a giant cock! What does it look like? What you think El is the only one with cocktail skills?"

Quentin set his book aside and accepted the drink. "No." He sipped it and blinked at the glass as the taste of something smoky and unique with a citrus aftertaste hit his tongue.

"Wow."

"And that's a drink, imagine a blow job? " Margo said with a smile.

Quentin sat up a little. "I don't have to imagine. I've had--that. Lots of times!"

Margo looked at him and rolled her dark eyes. "Trying to convince me or yourself?"

"I told you the other night, I'm not a virgin!" Quentin took a long pull on his drink. "There were girls at Columbia. Lots of them!"

"Name five." She looked at him skeptically.

"You wouldn't know them anyway." Quentin said, glancing away.

"Just try me, Stud. You claim to be this big swinging non-virgin so, educate me." Margo said as she had a sip of her drink.

"Well there was, uhm---there was Sandy, and . . . Marty, then Jan . . . " Quentin counted them off on his fingers.

"Marsha, Cindy, Carol?" Margo said with a smile? "Alice, Vera? Flo?"

Quentin scowled. "So you still don't believe me?"

"Not when you're naming the Pink Ladies from _Grease_."

Quentin's cheeks and neck flushed so hard that the color vanished beneath the collar of his sweater. "Coincidence."

"Look...." Margo sighed. "Just drop the bullshit and tell me the truth, Quentin. It's just you and me here."

Quentin set his drink down and folded his arms across his chest.

"You'll tell El---you'll tell people."

Margo turned and set her drink down. She pressed her hands together palm to palm then twisted them to form the square with her fingers then peered through it. She looked at Quentin.

"Holy shit."

"What the hell? Stop it!" Caught unaware, Quentin tried to strengthen his wards.

"You're totally bi-curious about Eliot!" Margo lowered her finger square.

"I don't--that's--no! No I’m not, Margo!" Quentin rose from his chair and headed for the staircase.

Margo was on her feet in a flash, snagged Quentin by the arm, and spun him around.

"Gossip remember? Perceptive remember?"

Quentin pulled away and then pushed both hands through his hair, his dark eyes filling with panic.

 "Jesus . . . I don't know what's happening to me . . ."

Margo gently tugged his hands out of his hair. "Okay, breathe. In and out."

Quentin took a few breaths and shook his head. "Maybe it's the magic . . . maybe it's some kind of spell?"

“Love?” Margo said softly, and a rare flash of sympathy moved across her face.

Quentin closed his eyes a moment before returning to the easy chair, which he flopped back into.

"I'm so confused, Margo." He said at last. "And you're right, okay? I lied to you the other night. There weren't any girls at Columbia. I mean there were, but none of them ever noticed me. Julia and James would take me to parties, but . . . but I usually just ended up in corner somewhere, bored and anxious and just wanting to be back in my room."

 “You want Eliot, don’t you?” She asked gently as she touched his face.

"I don't know, Margo! I don't know what I want! How can I know when I've never--I mean maybe it's just some stupid non-sexual crush! I've never met anyone like Eliot before, maybe . . ."

Margo listened to him a moment then she puts her fingers over his lips. "Quentin, if you think you're the first straight guy to fall for Eliot...you're not. He has his admirers and not all of them are homos."

"Homos? Isn't that kind of derogatory?" Quentin asked.

"Please . . . it’s said with love. I love Eliot too, and if you ever want to see a funny thing, go ahead and call him a faggot. He puts his hand on his chest, gets vapor lock, and says ‘Please! I’m more stylish than your average faggot!’”

"Maybe I am one. Uhm . . . gay."

"Well, there is one way to be sure." Margo touched the dress she had on and flicked open the buttons, which showed her breasts.

"Jesus! Jesus, Margo!" Quentin gaped at her a few moments before turning his head, his eyes wide.

"See that's what I thought! You took a few moments to check out my tits before you were horrified. Do you want to touch one?"

Quentin put a hand to his forehead. "What I want is to go lie down. For a really. Long. Time."

"Fair enough." She buttoned her dress back up. "You go lay down."

Quentin paused a moment before giving a helpless gesture of apology. He was gone up the stairs a moment later.

"Kids." Margo took a moment to adjust her dress before going back to the bar. Eliot was coming any moment now to work on the next phase of the trials, and she began to put together his favorite ingredients in his shaker.

The door to the cottage opened a moment later and Eliot swept inside, wearing his green trials cape. "Kids!" He exclaimed as he went to the bar to give Margo a warm kiss on the cheek.

"What happened?" She smiled at the kiss then cracked open the shaker and poured him a drink, "Cocktail?"

"For future reference, Bambi, the answer to that is always yes." He undid the cape and tossed it over a nearby chair with a flourish.

Margo took him the drink. "Quentin was just here."

"Oh!" He accepted the drink and smiled. "And what exactly did you two discuss?" He asked, taking a long sip from his glass.

"The trials, he's nervous." Margo had poured herself another drink then set it down. "We were also talking about his sex life."

"Quentin has a sex life? Well. That is surprising news." Eliot sat down with his drink, but something flickered in his amber eyes. "So . . . who's he fucking? Is it Alice Quinn?"

Margo watched her friend carefully as she had a sip of her drink. "Who do you think he should be banging?"

"I assumed the obvious choice was Alice. They spend a lot of time together . . . he seems---interested."

"Interested in Alice? Please! She's the biggest cock blocker since that chick's iron underwear in that Robin Hood movie!"

Eliot grinned widely. "I do love your way with words. You don't think she'd let him in?"

"Not without an armed escort, and maybe not even then."

"My radar must be off." Eliot sighed. "I could have sworn--" His jaw tightened, accentuating his high cheekbones, and he got up to pour himself another drink.

"Sworn what?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Eliot almost sighed the words as he refilled his glass.

"What? You think he liked dick? Or... hoped that he did?"

"I thought perhaps he--we've spent some time together. That's all."

Margo saw it on his face and she nodded, "Yeah well.... do you like Q?"

"Oh, Christ." Eliot lit a cigarette. "What have I told you about binge watching _The Gilmore Girls_?"

Margo rose to her feet and offered her hand.

"Speaking of binge watching... guess who got three new Joan Crawford movies?"

Eliot turned. "Please tell me one of them is _Mildred Pierce_!"

Margo sighed. "As if I'd forget your favorite?"

Eliot crossed the room and took her hand. "Who needs coitus when you have _Mildred Pierce_ and what I must admit is one hell of a cocktail?"

"I also got strawberry wine and chocolate eclairs, your favorite." She squeezed his hand. "Shall we go upstairs?"

"Most definitely!" Eliot returned the squeeze and allowed Margo to lead him away,

 

*** **** ****

_*Two days later_

Quentin flinched as Alice slammed the door to his room upon leaving, a furious flare of her dark skirt letting him know how badly he had fucked up. He rubbed both hands over his face as he plopped down on the bed, his body and mind a whirl of contrasts--anger and desire, pleasure and pain, guilt and libido. His cock was still half-hard under his jeans and his balls throbbed, reminding him of what he could have had--and why he was now sitting here alone.

Not that it was Alice's fault. She'd been unable to read his signals, been frustrated by his hesitation. Finally, after their final kiss that had ended with him pulling away after he'd initiated it, Alice had shoved him away.

"You had better figure out what you want, Quentin!" She'd snapped before storming out of the room. Quentin had wanted to follow, wanted to explain . . . but then, how he could explain something he didn't understand himself? Explain why the sight of her full breasts excited him but then could think of nothing but the color of Eliot's eyes when he'd kissed her? No. There was no explanation for it, other than his broken brain. He groaned and flopped back onto his mattress as the door to his room opened about an inch.

"Well, this has been an interesting evening." A voice said a moment later, and Quentin sat up to see Margo push the door open the rest of the way. She was in a teal silk robe and held a bottle of wine in her hands. "I don't suppose you know of someone who may need a drink," She saw the state of Quentin's pants and his obvious flag at half-mast. "And possibly a cold shower?”

"Jesus, Margo! Don't you know how to fucking knock?" Quentin grabbed the nearest pillow and tossed it over his lap, casually leaning one elbow on it. It sank down and his arm slipped, and he scowled at her as he tried to fold the pillow in half instead. "I was--you know---entertaining someone in here!"

"No, your wench with benefits stomped out of here like she was marching to war, and it was loud enough for everyone to know you came this close but didn't score." Margo took a moment to glance at his pants. "Pity. Looks like you got a pretty healthy sized....zipper."

Quentin's fair skin darkened with a blush, which spread from his cheeks to his neck like a wildfire through a dry forest.

"Can you keep your voice down, please?" He hissed.

"No need, everyone heard anyway." She showed him the bottle of wine. "Care for some?"

Quentin closed his eyes for several moments, escaping Margo's knowing gaze, and then held his hand out. "Fine." He said at last, opening his eyes again. "At least the fucking bottle won't complain about how I use my mouth," He muttered, tugging it from her hand before taking a long swig, his throat working.

Margo watched him drink then she took a small pill bottle out of the pocket of her robe.

"Guess what's in here?"

Quentin pulled the bottle away from his lips with a grimace--the whole wine thing was still new to him.

"I don't know, uhm . . . X? Coke? Unicorn farts?"

"How about...." Margo unscrewed the cap and pulled out a joint. "Are you a vegetarian? Into greenage?"

"Is that--uhm--a . . .?"

"Pot, grass, mary jane." Margo handed him the slim joint. "Magically grown by a certain magician."

"Oh." Quentin peered at the joint and then glanced up at Margo's sly smile. "What? You think I've never smoked weed before? I went--I went to college! Columbia! We used to party all the time!"

"Oh, so you aren't a virgin?" Margo smiled. "Go ahead... give it a try." She snapped her fingers and the end of it began to burn.

"Jesus, why do you keep asking me that?" Quentin asked.

"Okay but, uhm--what about Dean Fogg?"

"His second-year horticulture class is all about growing marijuana plants. Cannabis is actually used in quite a few spells."

"Oh." Quentin hesitated and then drew in two rich pulls of smoke before giving a choked whoop, bending over as he coughed out the smoke. "Fuck!" He managed to gasp out.

"Good huh?" Margo took the joint and had a drag of it. She held it in her lungs then tipped her head back and blew out a stream of smoke. With one wave of her hand, the smoke morphed into stars and planets that began to swirl around them both.

Quentin pounded at his chest, coughed once more, and flopped back on his mattress, "So," He said after a moment. "Why aren't you with Eliot, watching some Jane Crawfin movie?"

"Crawford! Craw-ford! If Eliot heard you say Crawfin he'd remove your nut sac with an olive fork." Margo took the joint back and flopped back on the mattress beside him. “But he's not here."

"Oh? Hot date?" Quentin asked as he reached for the wine bottle and took another swig, drowning how bitter the words tasted.

"Doing a census survey?" Margo had another drag of the joint then offered it to Quentin. "I don't keep a tracking bug up his ass." She said, then cleared her throat. "It's somewhere else." She said as she thought of the tiny crystal in Eliot’s bee pin he wore every single day. The crystal was enchanted, and she used it whenever Eliot left campus. Margo usually felt a twinge of guilt when she checked in on him, but with all the hedge bitches popping up around Brakebills lately, she felt it was better to err on the side of caution. 

Quentin accepted the joint, took a drag, and managed to hold it without coughing. "No. Why should I care? I don't, Really."

"Okay, well, he'll be home when the magical Viagra wears out."

"Ummph." Quentin rolled over and buried his face in the bed's other pillow.

Margo watched him wallow like a whale on the beach before she stood up.

"Okay Droopy Ass, get up and put on something that doesn’t look like it came out of your father's closet."

"Unh?" Quentin raised his head to peer at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you have something that's a little more fashionable?”

"I left my morning coat at my father's house." Quentin rolled into a sitting position and pushed his hair back with one hand. "And what am I dressing for, exactly?"

"A trip to the adult version of Disneyland." Margo untied her robe.

"Look, you get dressed and I'll be right back."

"The adult . . . uhm. That--okay?" Quentin hedged as he went to his closet and pulled out a Henley in a dark periwinkle. He heard the door click shut again and shook his head as he tugged off his sweater,

"I know I'm going to regret this," he muttered.

** *** ****

True to her words, Margo returned to Quentin's room in an outfit that had to be tailor made: a white shirt and sharp black slacks and a pair of black-and-white platform shoes that looked as though they could double as deadly weapons if the occasion called for it. She made a portal, tugged Quentin through it, and the next three hours passed in a booze-fueled whirlwind as they pub crawled via magic, from a pub in England to a nightclub in Germany to an underground cellar bar with no name in Paris. They sampled alcohol Quentin had never heard of, much less tasted, and as they portaled from Cancun to the Las Vegas strip, Quentin stumbled into the street and dropped whatever he'd been drinking.

"Oh, shizz!" He blinked and giggled as he looked over his shoulder at Margo. "I glopped my dlass! My grash . . . my . . . drinkie keeper!"

Margo blinked at him and smoothed her loose hair back. She planted her fists on her hips. "For fuck's sake Q! I paid a whole buck for that glass!"

"Sorry! Sorry. Here . . . I'll give you . . . two . . . three . . . no! Four dollars!" Quentin fumbled out his wallet and then looked around, amazement stealing over his face.

"Oh! Oh, we're in Vegas! Margo! Let's go play the--the---uhm . . ." Quentin made a pulling motion with his right hand. "No! let's ride the roller coashter! No!" He grabbed her arm.

"Oh my God . . . let's go find a buffet! A buffet with _shrimp_!"

"Keep your money!" Margo tugged him by the arm and spun him around. "Hey, I know where we can go! Oh, it’s the best fucking idea!”

"Where? Tell me!" Quentin's dark eyes danced with colored lights, reflected from strip's neon.

"See that place?” Margo pointed to the Luxor Hotel, which was a giant black pyramid with a beam of light at the top.

Quentin nodded. "I went there once, with my dad! He took me to see the _Titanic_ exhibit." The young magician threw his head back and burst into song.

"Yoooooooooou'rreeee heeeeeeeeere, there's noooooooooooooothing I fearrrr!" He half-shouted, spinning in a slow circle, his arms spread wide.

Margo made a face, as if she saw a fat man in a thong, and quickly slapped her hand over Quentin's mouth.

"Okay, Leo-not-o DiCaprio, you can stop right there. If I ever hear you sing one of my favorite songs again, I'll be wearing your balls for earrings."

Quentin snorted gleefully against her hand. "Balls!" He crowed in a muffled tone. "So where are we going?"

"There's a special tattoo parlor inside the Luxor we have to go check out." Margo said in a low tone.

Quentin turned to look at her. "ohmygod _yes_! We gotta go!"

Margo took a moment to straighten her shirt and run a hand over her hair.

"Okay... I'm a little drunk but we have to concentrate here to open the portal."

"Right! Concentrate." Quentin squinted.

"Okay, come on Margo." Margo said to herself and shook out of her hands. She closed her eyes, straightened her spine and held out her hands. "Okay Quentin, give me your hands."

Quentin offered his own, cleaning his throat. "Prolly shouldn't have that--whatever it was--in the Rathskellar in Germany. That was some strong stuff!"

"Hell yes!" Margo gripped his hands tight and began to chant in Japanese. Behind her, a small glowing dot appeared then began to grow the more she chanted.

"Help me, dickwad!" She tugged on his hands.

"Oh! Uhm . . ." Quentin listened for a moment and then picked up the chant, focusing on the pronunciation.

The small glowing dot began to spin and grow until it was the size of a person. Margo stopped when she heard the buzzing noise behind her and looked over her shoulder at the opening.

"It worked!"

"Course! We're professionally trained maki-maci-magsi--wizards!" Quentin nodded, and Margo tugged him through the portal.

“C’mon, Sloshy, it’s getting late!”

*** **** ****

Once inside the huge hotel, Margo and Quentin decided to skip the moving sidewalk and walked on their own across ornate carpets, huge open areas overlooked by fancy, trendy restaurants, which then gave way to a hallway lined with shops.

"This place is amazing!" Quentin exclaimed. "Do you remember where the shop is?"

Margo narrowed her eyes as her senses lead her down a yellow wallpapered hall. At the end of the narrow hall were double glass doors with the words _Tats All, Folks_ , spelled out in cartoony neon. The doors looked as if they were covered with the bottoms of soda bottles and were framed with the same yellow wallpaper.

"Can't you feel it?" Margo stepped closer to the doors and held her hands out. "The magic is coming off this place in waves."

"Tats All, Folks." Quentin grinned. "Oh! I just got it!" He pushed the doors open.

  The inside of the shop smelled like patchouli incense and the rich smell of ink. Tattoo samples lined the walls, many of them cartoon characters. Quentin touched each one, naming them in his head. A petite blond came from the back room, pushing side two halves of a beaded curtain. Her long hair was done up in Bo Derek braids and her blue eyes were framed with lavender eyeshadow. She glanced at Quentin, then Margo.

"Welcome!"

"Hey...." Margo looked at her pointedly. "Are you Cassie Caraway?"

"Last time I checked!" The blond flashed her a smile. She had a pointy chin and high cheekbones, and this, along with her small stature, gave her an impish look. "What can I do for you?"

Margo cleared her throat. "We want some tattoos. Ones you may not be able to get anywhere else in Vegas.”

Cassie nodded. Thanks to the lateness of the hour, they were the only ones in the shop. "I hear you, sis. Where are you guys from? Let me guess . . . Brakebills? Spring break or something?" She glanced over at Quentin. "No offense cutie, but you feel more confused than a moose whose butt is heading south when his head is going north!" She nodded. "Tell you what . . . come in the back and I'll do a special spell for you, Visitor's discount!"

"Brakebills yes." Margo felt instant relief at the fact the rumors she had heard about this place were indeed true, then followed Cassie.

"How do you know Brakebills?" Quentin asked, and the blonde smiled.

"Class of 2012, sweetness. I came here because I love to ink, because Vegas rocks from sundown to sunup, and because there's a lot of magic in this town when you know where to look. I make a decent living giving cartoon character tats to the Muggles and casting special tattoo spells for magicals." She explained as they went into a large back room with three tattoo chairs. Quentin glanced around--the smell here was different, more electric and tinged with ozone.

"You said I feel confused?"

Cassie nodded. "I was in the psychic house at Brakebills."

The inside of the shop had black-and-white checkered floors and a row of shiny barber chairs with longer arms. There was neon pink and purple all over the walls, and the feel of it was good vibes mixed in with a hint of magic.

"Wow..." Margo said as she looked around. "I fuckin’ love this place!"

"Thanks. It sucks that only about thirty percent of my clientele see this room, but hey, that's a magician's life, right?" Cassie took down several bottles from a nearby shelf, some containing powder, some liquid. "Now . . . how would you both like to know what truly lies in the center of your hearts? Besides your shades, I mean. I know this spell that will reveal your true self, your heart's desire, or your soulmate, in the form of a tattoo. It's one of my own creation, and it's pretty rockin' if I must say."

"Yes Cassie, that's why we are here." Margo sat down in one of the barber chairs and crossed her legs. "I want a special tattoo."

"Okay cool, but fair warning, I'm not responsible for what shows up, and people aren't always happy about what does. You're Margo . . . and you're Quentin?" She asked.

"Margo Hanson, Quentin Coldwater." Margo nodded. Cassie smiled

“Awesome. All right, shirts off!”

Margo glanced down at her white blouse and sighed.

"Well, what the hell. Quentin, if you've never seen a chick in her bra, you're about to get your cherry popped." She sat up straight and scooted to the edge of the barber chair; she began unbuttoning her white blouse and opened it to reveal a fancy white satin bra.

Quentin gave a drunken scoff as he tugged off his Henley, his arms flailing as he momentarily became tangled. "I've seen bras before!" He finally freed himself from the pullover and tossed it aside. Cassie set two barber chairs nearly horizontal and nodded to them. “Belly down . . . the tattoos will appear just below and slightly off center of the middle of your spine . . . parallel to the heart."

"Belly down, which is not my favorite position." Margo muttered as she moved from her chair to the horizontal one, climbed on it and laid belly down on top of it.

Cassie picked up a jar filled with a thick blue paste and dipped her fingers into it.

"Just relax . . . let your minds wander, and don't try to control the shape the tattoo will make. You must surrender to what the spell knows . . . what it reads inside your hearts." She made two sets of parallel lines on each of the magicians' backs, then added two dots in between them as she muttered a bit of Arabic.

The temperature of the paste made Margo gasp. "Okay, do you keep it in the fridge? The girls are at full salute here!"

Cassie smiled. "That's just the enchantment. Relax . . ." She picked up a slim vial of purple liquid and allowed a few drops to drip out. They hit the dots, which hissed and bubbled away, but harmlessly.

"Hey hey! I go from tight nipples to a volcano?" Margo felt the bubbling on her back.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to do this, or are you going to give a bitchy blow-by-blow critique of it? If you don't relax, you're gonna have a hella ugly tat, it and it won't be my fault!"

"Okay. okay! Christ, I tend to turn twatty when I'm nervous." Margo sighed, then closed her eyes and forced her small frame to relax.

"Just chill and let the spell work. Go to your happy place, if you have one." She glanced at a smiling Quentin. "Looks like Quentin has one . . . what is it?" She asked, and a smile curved Quentin's full lips. "Fillory."

"Fillory! Okay, well, whatever tickles your pickle." Cassie nodded. She moved up between them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders as she closed her eyes and began a long, singsong chant. After a few moments, the lines of paste on their backs began to shiver and then writhe, thinning out, then elongating, before sinking under their skin and bleeding outward. Shapes slowly began to form.

"5th Avenue, New York City...." Margo said as she began to relax.

The lines flickered with a pale blue light as they took shape, and Cassie smiled knowingly as she watched Quentin's tattoo form. The kid's wards were blasted by booze and it had been easy enough for her to read his thoughts. Margo's was a bit more of a mystery, but she figured the outspoken brunette might be able to fill her in. Finally, the tattoos edges and colors filled in, and the spell faded. Cassie pulled her hands away.

"There! All done . . ."

"So fast?" Margo glanced over her shoulder at Cassie. "What did I get?"

"It's kind of funny . . . it looks like one I might give one of my non-magical clients!" Cassie enchanted a mirror and handed it over so she could see it.

Margo sat up and took the mirror from Cassie, held it over her shoulder, and thanks to the enchantment, she saw what her new tattoo was.

"Oh my God!!" She said as she touched her hand to her mouth. There, on the back of her shoulder blade, was a small Bambi tattoo.

"Are you super into Disney?" Cassie asked. "I mean, no judgement, but the spell is supposed to reveal an essential truth that lies in your heart."

"My soul mate has always called me Bambi." Margo angled the mirror to see it and it brought a smile to her face. "It's beautiful."

"Well, if you weren't sure if he or she was your soul mate before, now you have proof." Cassie smiled. "Quentin, do--" The petite blonde paused as she realized that the younger magician was passed out cold in the chair, a tiny smile on his lips. Cassie helped Margo sit up and then gestured at Quentin's back. "His mind might be confused, but his heart sure isn't." There, in crisp black ink, was the visage of a long, slender key. The bow was heart shaped, and the bit and key wards formed an unmistakable letter: that of a capital E.

"Holy fuck!" Margo said when she saw the key, but part of her was not surprised at the exact same time. "Wow...it’s amazing, and boy, it’s going to make life at Brakebills very interesting."

*** *** ****

_The Next Morning_

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh." Quentin groaned for the third time in ten minutes as he rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet. The Physical Kids cottage was mercifully quiet, and he finally raised his head. "Can't believe I did this." He closed his eyes a moment. "I can't believe you let me do this!" He said to the closed door behind him, where he knew Margo was standing and listening.

Margo pulled a vial out of the pocket of her white silk robe. "Would you like some cheese with that whine? I have a potion El and I created that leaves you 100 percent hangover free."

Quentin put his hands in his hair and pushed back the tangled tresses.

"Will it remove this highly embarrassing tattoo? If not, then just let me die in peace, all right?"

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. " Margo pulled a black rubber band from around her wrist and used it to pull her hair into a pony tail. "Cassie told us it would show you your heart's desire."

"And we believed her! Christ . . . she just wanted to make some quick cash off a couple of drunk magicians! Stupid, stupid!" Quentin knocked a fist against his head and then tensed when he heard a door shut across the hall--Eliot's door.

"Morning, Bambi!" Eliot greeted her as he shut his bedroom door behind them. After a moment, he cocked his head. "Why are you lingering outside the bathroom? Is this some odd new sniffing kink you have yet to tell me about?"

Margo looked at her best friend and made a face. "Really, queen? Does it look like I'm into scat?"

"At the moment? Maybe." Eliot grinned a little and adjusted his robe. "So . . . how was your evening?"

"Colorful. We did the pub crawl." Margo showed Eliot the vial. "We ended up in Vegas."

"We?"

"Me and Sir Barf-a-lot in there." She hooked her thumb at the closed bathroom door.

"Margo, please." Quentin moaned, and Eliot grinned.

"You took Q on a pub crawl? My God, I could kick myself for missing that! Although then I would have missed out on being spanked instead." He knocked on the door. "Quentin? Margo has a cure all for you . . . come on out, you'll feel better if you take it!"

In the bathroom, Quentin glanced around, frantic. "Just--uhm . . . I have to--hang on!" He yanked down a towel from the rack as he slowly got to his feet and wrapped it around his shoulders like a terrycloth cape. He opened the door, wearing the towel and a pair of stained grey sweats, and Eliot recoiled.

"Dear God. So that's what happened to Baby Jane."

"She did a pub crawl with an alcoholic rookie?" Margo handed him the vial. "Come on Q, it really works!"

"More like she did a pub crawl with Bambi." Eliot chuckled. Quentin ducked them both and bolted for the safey of his room, but Eliot followed. "Q, if you think you're the first one at Brakebills to worship the porcelain god after a night of drinking . . . " He made a grab for Quentin's shoulder and got a handful of the towel instead. He pulled it off and Quentin gave a dismayed squawk as the tattoo was revealed. Eliot's eyes widened. "Holy . . ."

"Oops!" Margo said as she saw Eliot with a handful of towel and her BFF's hubcap-sized eyes. "Well, that's one way to free the beast."

Quentin hung his head a moment and then Eliot was stepping back, mute, as the smaller man advanced on him. "Yeah! So I got a reverse tramp stamp! With your fucking initial!" Quentin wiped a hand over his pale cheeks. "The little dork got sloshed and stamped!" Tears brightened his dark eyes. "So go ahead, Eliot. Go ahead and laugh. Go on." Quentin said, and Eliot looked from him, then to Margo.

"Do you know why I asked you how your night was, Bambi?"

Margo 's hands slide to the tie of her robe and she pulled it free to let the top half slide down.

"Quentin isn't the only one." She turned around to show Eliot the cartoon Bambi below her shoulder blade.

"Mmmh." Eliot nodded. "Well! That explains it." He said, and Quentin folded his arms over his chest. "Explains what?" He snapped, and Eliot moved past Quentin to open his bedroom door before ushering them inside. He closed the door and unbelted his red-and-black ornate robe before letting the top part fall away. "This."

Quentin stepped closer, his anger falling away, his nausea forgotten. On Eliot's back, parallel to his heart, was a tattoo much like his own--a key. It was long, ornate, and a rich plum color, only it had a double bit that formed the letter Q on its top and an M on its bottom. Quentin stared for what felt like hours and then looked over at Margo. Eliot nodded. "It was there when I woke up this morning. You went to Cassie Caraway's tattoo shop in Vegas, obviously."

"Fuck me!" Margo saw the Q and the M then turned around "What about mine? It’s hard to really see it."

"Let me see." Eliot turned her gently, one big, elegant hand tracing over the tattoo. Then he began to chuckle. "Margo . . . did Cassie perform the Horatio's Heart's Desire spell?"

"Honestly Eliot, I don't know what the spell was, but it was really cold on my back."

Eliot touched the spots on Bambi's coat and then enchanted a nearby mirror, where he projected the image of her tattoo, "Take a closer look."

Margo turn around to see the projection of her tattoo. Bambi was lying down, with his legs tucked under him, but there was something special about the squarish spots on his back.

"Is that...?" She asked as she squinted a little. The center square spots on Bambi contained a tiny letter E and Q.

Quentin stepped over to peer at the image and then looked over at Eliot's new tattoo, the Q and the M obvious. This new implication made his heart pick up its pace. Did Margo and Eliot both . . .?

"Did either of you notice this?" Eliot turned Quentin's back toward Margo and traced the bow of the key.

"We were both pretty drunk." Margo stepped closer to see Quentin's key. the bow of the key was not a heart like she thought, but a letter M. "Is that an... M?"

"It is." Eliot nodded, Quentin stared at Margo's tattoo a moment and then looked up at Eliot. "Wait, uhm--this means that all of want--that the three of us--"

"We want each other." Margo said as she turned around to face both men,

"You want--but I thought--I wasn't even sure you even liked me as . . . you know . . . a person!" Quentin exclaimed, and Eliot put his arms around them both.

"I think what this means, my loves, is that I can't do without Bambi, she can't do without me, and that you, my sweet Puppy, don't want to do without either of us. That the three of us belong together. The rest, well . . . we have time to figure that out." He leaned down to kiss Margo's cheek, then Quentin's lips. Quentin's eyelids slid closed and his expression relaxed.

Margo smiled at the kiss from Eliot then sighed. She always loved Eliot, nearly from the day they’d met, and her feelings for Quentin were there, like tiny seeds that needed to be tended. Finally, she nodded.

"What he said!" She then kissed both men and put her arms around them.

"But--" Quentin began, and Eliot put a finger to the younger magician's full lips.

"Don't overthink it, Q. Come on . . . let's get you cleaned up, since what you drank in Vegas didn't stay in Vegas." He eyed the stains on Quentin's sweats.

"Then I'll whip us up some brunch . . . I know a fab bloody Mary recipe." He opened Quentin's closet and began to rifle through it. Quentin glanced at Margo. "Some pub crawl, huh?" He asked at last.

"Here, drink this." Margo handed him the vial. She turned to watch as Eliot fussed around with the closet and she smiled. "Yeah, we went to Vegas and it showed us something we weren't expecting."

Quentin took the vial with a nod of thanks, downed it, grimaced, and set the empty tube aside. "So." He asked after a moment. "Does this make us like . . . uhm--a--a threesome?"

"Threesome?" Margo hissed at Quentin. "Oh no honey, we don't do threesomes.. we do...." She motioned to Eliot to finish the sentence.

Eliot glanced over his shoulder, a pair of khakis and a soft dark blue Henley in one hand.

"Whatever we do, it's by invitation only. You're a VIP, Q. Here." He handed him the clothing.

"Put these on while Bambi and I get dressed," Eliot took her hand. "We'll be back to get you in a few moments.” They crossed the hallway to Eliot's room, where the dark-haired magician paused. "I owe you one, Bambi. Q never would have figured out his feelings on his own."

Margo smiled and gently touched his face. "You don't owe me anything. But I do feel like the three of us have a lot to figure out."

"We do. Just promise me one thing, Margo?”

"Anything, Eliot." Margo said with a serious expression on her face.

"No tattoo magic when we take Quentin's virginity?" He opened his bedroom door and glanced over his shoulder at her. "The last thing I need is my cock looking like a souvenir from Jamaica!"

The fact Eliot knew Quentin was a virgin without her having to tell him made the petite brunette smile. "Yeah mon!" She said with a perfect accent, then reached out and took his hand.

Eliot's bedroom door shut behind them, muffling their mingled laughter.

THE END

 


End file.
